Snowed In At Snowflake B&B: The perfect heartwarming Christmas romance to curl up with in 2020!

by Kellie Hailes

  He mother nodded. ‘It’s true, I did love your father. He started out charming. He could be so kind. Picking wild flowers and presenting me with them. Opening doors and making sure I went first. If he saw me carrying groceries home for your grandparents he’d take them off me and walk me home just to make sure I got there safe. How could a young girl not fall for that?’ A tremulous smile touched her lips. ‘It all changed, of course, once we were married. Once he knew he had me right where he wanted me. That’s when the demands started. The quiet disapproval. The expectations to do things exactly how they needed to be done. His terms, his way, his needs, his wants. All had to be met without question.’

  Sam wrapped her hands around her mug, but didn’t take a sip. She wasn’t thirsty for tea, she was thirsty for answers. ‘Why didn’t you tell Gran or Pop? Or your friends?’

  ‘He told me they wouldn’t believe me. That they’d think I was being dramatic. And I believed him.’ Her mother’s hands tightened around her mug. Her knuckles blooming an ugly purple and white. ‘Of course I believed him. To the rest of the world he was still a gentleman. The odd times we left the house for a special occasion he’d pull seats out for me. Smile and laugh at whatever I said, like he was enamoured with me. The number of times we were called the perfect couple.’ She shook her head and let out a disgusted ‘ugh’. ‘He was perfect at hiding the truth. And by going along with it I was every bit as complicit in the charade as he was.’

  Sam abandoned her seat and came to her mother, then crouched down and wrapped her in a hug. A long minute passed, and then her mother’s arms were around her. The two finding comfort in each other, accepting their past, silently promising to heal, to not let it mar their futures. As best as two people deeply hurt could do.

  ‘Do something for me, Sam.’

  Her mother’s words were hot against Sam’s ear. Spoken with a ferocity Sam didn’t know her mother was capable of.

  Sam pulled back and saw the fierceness in her mother’s eyes. They were wild with purpose, determined to make her see the truth. To change what her mother could not.

  ‘Don’t make the mistakes I did. Don’t be too afraid to love again. To trust someone. Because they’re not all like him. They’re not all like your ex, either. There are good men out there. Ones who might not hold doors open for you or present you with beautiful bouquets of flowers, but will treat you like your thoughts matter. Like your opinions count. Who will see how special you are and will follow you to the ends of the earth. Tell me you won’t be afraid to fall in love. That if the chance comes you’ll take it. Embrace it. Tell me you won’t let a man walk all over you, but you’ll give a man a chance to show his heart to you.’

  Sam’s stomach twisted as sadness settled in her heart. How could she appease her mother’s wishes when her experience with cruel, abusive men saw the scar tissue ran so deep she didn’t see herself ever fully healing.

  ‘I promise, Mum.’

  ‘You just promised me a lie, Sam.’ Disappointment saw her mother frown, her eyes heavy with sadness. ‘You’re my daughter, remember? I know you.’

  ‘I hate it that you know me. And I love it.’ Sam lifted her mug and took a sip of tea. It may have the power to soothe, but it didn’t have the power to erase the past, to help you start fresh. That was all up to her. ‘It’s just hard when you’re always looking out for hurtful words, expressions, or worse.’

  ‘Of course it is, I understand. But you know what to look for. You’ve been there, seen that, experienced it.’ Her mother’s lips pursed for a long moment, then released. ‘Is that why you haven’t been back to Snowflake B&B? You didn’t answer my question before when I asked if he hurt you. Was that the case?’

  Sam rubbed her eyes. She didn’t know what the answer was anymore. The longer she was away from Snowflake B&B, the more she replayed her time spent with Reuben there, the greater her confusion about the events that had unfolded became.

  ‘He offered me the chance to move in there full-time. Said I could work there with him, cooking and growing the business – he was letting me create a website, work on a marketing plan, all sorts. Trusting me with it. He even offered for us to move our business there too, to make cooking our meals and baking easier – bigger kitchen, less travel time for me going between jobs…’

  ‘He sounds horrible.’ Her mother shook her head, I can’t believe you stayed as long as you did.’

  Sam threw her mother a ‘don’t give me grief’ look, and her mother mouthed ‘sorry’ back.

  ‘But he changed – began to make little comments about how quickly the food was being brought to the table or how long I spent doing the dishes. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, did my best to not overthink his words, but then I found out he lied to me.’ She focused on her mug and willed herself not to tear up. ‘I picked up the phone at the same time as him, and an estate agent was calling about him selling the manor. And so I confronted him and…’

  ‘And he told you you’d made a mistake?’

  ‘He tried to, but I wouldn’t let him. I didn’t want to hear it. Wouldn’t have believed him even if…’ Sam trailed off, recalling the night’s events. Reuben’s horrified eyes, the way he’d shaken his head so vehemently. The look of heartbreak on his face when she’d said she was leaving. The way he’d let her leave without trying to coerce her to stay. The way he hadn’t gotten angry when he found out she’d looked at his personal papers. Nausea tumbled in her stomach. She set her mug down and pushed it away. ‘I think I’ve made a mistake,’ she whispered. ‘A bad one.’

  ‘Or you did what any woman who’d been put through the wringer twice would do. You expected the worst because it’s all you’ve ever known. And when you’re in your feelings, when you can’t see anything other than bad, how else were you meant to react?’ Her mother nodded to the package. ‘So what’s that about over there?’

  ‘He gave me boring socks for our pre-Christmas Secret Santa, probably because he hates mine—’ she lifted her leg and pulled up her jeans to reveal forest green socks sporting silvery snowflakes ‘—and wanted me to change. Clearly still does since he’s so desperate for me to have it.’

  ‘Oh, sweetness.’ Her mother reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘He gave you a parcel wrapped in whatever he had lying around. I’d bet my life on it. My father did the same to my mother for her birthday and Mother’s Day, Christmas too. Not all people are as organised as we are – as we’ve been forced to be.’ She pushed the present in Sam’s direction. ‘Open it. It might contain the answers you’re looking for.’

  Sam squinted at the present with suspicion. Could it really be something other than socks?

  ‘It won’t open itself up, Sam.’

  Sam wrinkled her nose at her mother, who laughed in return.

  ‘It might bring you joy… and after the Christmas Day you and I had, with you in the doldrums and me too afraid to ask what was wrong in case you bit my head off, this could be the Christmas cheer I need.’

  ‘I was not that bad.’ Sam peeled back the tape from the top of the terribly wrapped gift.

  Her mother raised her brows in a silent ‘you were so’.

  Sam dropped the further denial that was on the tip of her tongue. Her mother was right, it hadn’t been the happiest of days. They’d swapped gifts, video-called her brothers and their families, eaten a roast lunch, then spent the afternoon napping and reading. A perfectly nice Christmas, had she been able to summon a smile or more than the odd snippet of conversation.

  ‘And next time I have to ask you if you’re okay ten times in a row and don’t get the answer I’m looking for I am going to withhold all chocolate until you tell the truth. Okay?’

  ‘Okay, Mum.’ She shot her a smile, the first real one she’d felt in days, and pulled back the bag to reveal a sheaf of papers, held together by a paperclip.

  Her breath caught in her chest, her heart began to pound as she realised what she was holding.

  A manuscript. Reuben’s manuscript. />
  She traced the title with her fingers.

  ‘The Idiot’s Guide To Falling In Love.’

  Not exactly a name she’d have given a thriller, but then, it wasn’t a thriller. It was his top-secret find-his-passion-for-writing project that no one was allowed to read.

  And he’d entrusted it to her? After everything she’d said? After how she’d behaved?

  She flipped the page over and read the dedication:

  ‘To Sam, who changed me for the better.’

  She hugged the pages to her chest. Mr Dreaver and his cake would have to be delivered by her mum. She had words to read. And, if Reuben was willing to listen, her own tale to tell.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Sam bounced on the balls of her feet as she waited for Reuben to open the manor’s door. Had he not heard the doorknocker? Or her vigorous thumps? She rubbed her fisted hand against her jeans and reminded herself to never thump a manor door again. It was a futile attempt that got her nowhere while causing a whole lot of pain. Not unlike looking for bad in a good man as a way of keeping your heart safe.

  She waited another minute for the door to open, her impatience growing with every passing second. Bugger it, she was just going to have to try the handle and bowl on in.

  Before she could overthink the situation and scuttle back down the steps, she pushed down, and found herself stumbling forward full throttle into the hall. She pinwheeled her arms to stop herself kissing the floor, and with two ungainly steps was upright and ready to find Reuben.

  ‘Well, there’s an entrance if ever I saw one.’

  His tone was as dry as ever and gave nothing away. No hope that everything would be okay. No indication that they too – like the couple in his book if his epilogue was anything to go by – would have their happy ending.

  She spun around and found him by the door, his lips quirked to the side, his brows raised high, his hand still curled around the handle, which explained the ease with which the door opened.

  ‘Well if someone had just come to the door a bit quicker my entrance would’ve been far more ladylike.’ She dove into a deep bow, flung one had out and left it hanging in the air fluttering for seconds longer than necessary. ‘It’s good to see you again. Thank you for having me. We really must stop meeting exactly like this.’

  She pulled herself up to see Reuben shaking his head. His quirked lips morphed into a full smile.

  ‘You’re back to you. I’m glad.’ He shut the door and indicated she should move further into the manor. ‘Hot chocolate? It’s chilly out. Your nose is at red as Rudolph’s.’

  She ran her fingertips along a display table and held her hand up for inspection. ‘And your housework is as non-existent as ever.’

  Reuben shrugged a silent ‘whatever’.

  ‘And hot chocolate sounds good, thank you.’

  She made her way down the hall, marvelling at how in only a few days it no longer felt like home, but like she was entering a stranger’s place. One where it was okay to look, perhaps to touch, but settling in was not an option.

  Not that settling in ever had been. That was just a childish dream from a girl who longed for a life different from the one served up.

  ‘Can’t promise it’ll be as good as yours, but I’ve been working on it.’ Reuben entered the kitchen and went to the stovetop where a small pot sat.

  Sam inhaled deeply. The richness of the chocolate scent settled her nerves a touch, and she knew that whatever Reuben dished up would be more than fine.

  ‘It smells perfect.’ She settled onto a stool and immediately began drumming the island’s top. It felt weird being on the wrong side of the kitchen. Being served instead of serving. Her feet itched to hit the floor, race to the other side and tell Reuben to sit and let her pour the hot drinks and put together something to eat, but doing so wouldn’t be so much presumptuous as just plain rude. ‘So, how have you been?’

  She bit the inside of her cheek and wished she could take back her inane bordering on completely daft question.

  How had Reuben been?

  Busy. His delivery had made that clear. Three beautiful, heart-wrenching chapters filled with characters to ache for, to fall in love with, along with an ending that curled your toes and warmed your heart in the best way.

  It had become clear to Sam that he’d also been thinking, a lot. Figuring himself out through his work. Doing his best to figure her out, even though she’d only given him half the information he needed to do so.

  What amazed Sam more than anything was that despite the holes in her story, he was willing to open himself to her. Although after the way she’d behaved she wasn’t sure she deserved any kind of chance. Let alone a second one. But if he was offering, she was taking it and using it to do the least of what she wanted to do – apologise, and then explain. Anything after that would have to be up to Reuben.

  ‘So…’ She rubbed her hands together, sucked in her lips and then released them along with a deep exhalation. ‘Before I chicken out or put my foot in my mouth and say something idiotic, I just wanted to apologise for my behaviour the other night. I was a horror show. I let my past get in the way of my feelings for you. I let it shape who I thought you were. Colour the person you are in a way that wasn’t flattering. I took your words and morphed them into those that came from the men in my life who hadn’t treated me well. And I didn’t give you a chance to explain, not about what I perceived as a threat, not about the phone call with the estate agent. And for all of that I am truly, bottom of my heart sorry. Also very sorry for accidentally spilling your papers and seeing what was on them as I packed them away – unforgivable of me, I know.’ She gritted her teeth in an attempt at a ‘please forgive me’ smile.

  Reuben picked up the pot and poured the creamy brown liquid into one mug, then the other, then brought them both to the island and passed Sam hers.

  She nodded her thanks and wrapped her hands around the mug. Embraced its warmth. Wished it could soothe the cold prickles of nervousness that rattled through her body. Urged her to run. To leave. To never look back. To keep herself safe at any and all costs.

  Even if that meant abandoning the one chance of a life with someone she believed she could come to love – who she might already love a little.

  ‘Men.’ Reuben’s gaze bored into hers. Not demanding answers, but asking her to release her truth in her own time, in her own way.

  ‘Men.’ Sam sighed and wished she didn’t have to be so honest. That her life pre-Reuben hadn’t been so messy. That she could’ve met him without any horrible history and just allowed herself to tumble head over heels. ‘My father was the first. He of the controlling nature and barbed-wire tongue.’ She swallowed hard, hoping it would dislodge the lump that had appeared in her throat, stopping her from going on.

  ‘And there was another.’

  Reuben’s tone surprised Sam. It was so matter-of-fact, like he’d already figured it out.

  ‘Did you know Flo is a counsellor?’ He dropped his gaze to the contents of his mug. ‘She works with people who’ve suffered at the hands of others. She recognises the signs of those who have, and she thought perhaps you might know something of that kind of behaviour…’

  ‘Well that explains how she has the tools to deal with Stefan when he’s being… well… Stefan.’ Sam recalled all the odd looks Flo had sent in her direction during her stay. ‘It also explains why I felt like I’d been pinned under a microscope whenever she looked at me.’

  ‘She’s one of life’s good people.’ Reuben met her gaze, held it. ‘As are you.’

  If Sam was ever going to believe in the firework-setting fairies that lived in her chest, this would be the moment she started. Happiness and hope and joy sparked through her heart, sending the last of the nerves away, warming her in a way a mug of hot chocolate never could.

  ‘I’m sorry you overheard the conversation with the estate agent. I just wish you’d heard the rest of it.’

  Sam cupped her chin and leaned forward. ‘Ca
re to act out how it went?’

  Reuben grinned and shook his head. ‘It went something like, “Thank you so much for taking the time to find a buyer, but I’ve changed my mind.” “Oh, but, Mr Richards, we have someone willing to pay twice what you paid”.’

  ‘Twice? Tell me you sold.’ Sam uttered the words then heard what she’d said and instantly regretted it. ‘Tell me you told them to stuff off.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I told them, but in a far nicer manner. Also, they weren’t offering quite that much, a little more, but not enough to make me want to give this place up.’ His eyes darted around the room; a smile tipped the corners of his mouth. ‘To give up the happiness I’ve found here. They did offer me a couple of weeks to think about it, should I change my mind, but as far as I’m concerned that decision is up to you.’

  Up to her? Did that mean he wasn’t going to let her apologise and then send her on her way? That her job might still be on offer?

  Even better… that their original plan was still on the table. She could move in. Live here. Make Snowflake B&B her home?

  Breathe, Sam. She focused on the now. On what had to be done. On laying her history out so that Reuben truly understood, so that he knew what and who he was getting involved with.

  ‘Before you go calling the estate agent to give an answer one way or the other, I have to talk. I have to explain. It’s not enough for you to know that two men have hurt me.’

  ‘It is—’

  Sam held her hand up, silencing Reuben. ‘It’s not enough for me. You see, all I wanted when I was younger was to fall in love with someone who treated me the opposite to the way my father treated my mum. So when I was seventeen and I met…’ Sam pressed her lips together, not wanting to say his name. It felt like saying his name gave him power.

  ‘Shall we call him Dick, with a capital D?’ Reuben tilted his head and waggled his brows. ‘Seems fitting all things considered.’

  Sam’s heart swelled, and at that moment she knew she’d made the right decision to come back, to be brave, to risk everything.